


The Sapphire Isle

by littledragon94



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, summer vacation AU, team dragonstone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4468268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledragon94/pseuds/littledragon94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sapphire Isle Resort is a popular summer holiday destination for everyone, including some of the most notable families of Westeros who just want a little sea and sun. Featuring surfer-Lannisters, angry-fishermen Greyjoys, constantly-high Tyrells, and no-chill sports-fans Starks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dr Qyburn's Clinic

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I've been playing with for a while, let me know what you think!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime complains a lot, Brienne lends a hand, and Dr Qyburn takes his time.

'MY LIFE IS OVER!' Jaime cried, writhing on the examination bed.

Dr Qyburn struggled to keep his patient’s arm still while he attempted to align the cast to Jaime’s broken limb.

'Your life is not over, Mr Lannister,' Qyburn insisted.

'I’LL NEVER SURF AGAIN!'

'Of course you will, just as soon as your arm-'

'MY ARM!'

'-is healed.' Qyburn sighed and stopped trying to restrain Jaime. Instead he stood up and left his office. Jaime continued to moan and groan loudly in his absence. 'Brienne, a hand please?'

'MY POOR HAND!'

Qyburn winced at his choice of words, stepping aside to let Brienne, his summertime assistant, into his office. Her presence at least stunned Jaime into silence.

'If you could simply keep Mr Lannister’s arm still while I apply the plaster cast, please, Brienne,' Qyburn requested, resuming his ministrations on Jaime’s arm.

'What in Seven Hells are you?' Jaime spluttered as Brienne placed a large calloused hand on his upper arm.

Brienne raised an eyebrow, used to such outbursts about her appearance. She was tall, broad, well-muscled with large teeth and short messy hair. 'Excuse me?'

'Well you’re either a very masculine woman, or... well I’m not entirely sure what else you could be.'

He seemed entirely unaware that he had said anything remotely offensive, maintaining an air of genuine astonishment. It at least made a change from the purposeful mocking of others.

'I guess that is what I am then,' she replied, her tone even. She had picked up a fair amount of patience working at the Sapphire Isle each year.

'Why are you here?'

'Because Dr Qyburn asked me to assist him,' Brienne answered, wondering if the guy really was as stupid as his almost-comic stereotypical surfer aesthetic suggested.

'No, not here here. Why are you at the resort?'

'I’m working here over the summer.'

'Why would you want to work here? No offence, Qyburn.' Oh, _that_ was offensive?

'None taken, Mr Lannister,' Qyburn murmured amiably, soaking a roll of plaster in a bowl. 'Though I do quite enjoy working here.'

'Of course you do. But when you could be spending the summers of your youth out on the beach, why wouldn’t you?' Jaime pressed, seemingly ignorant to the fact that his thirties were rapidly approaching.

'I am only a few years older than you,' Qyburn pointed out.

Jaime shushed him with a wave of his unrestrained hand. 'I’m talking to the wench.'

Brienne was rightfully affronted. 'My name is Brienne.'

'And I am Jaime. Jaime Lannister. I’m sure you’ve heard of me.'

Brienne sorely wished that she hadn’t heard of him, just to wipe the smug grin from his face. But sadly, everyone at the resort had heard of the Lannisters.

There was Tywin; the head of the family and the CEO of Casterly Gold, the company that had set the lot of them up for life so they could spend their summers surfing on the beach at the Sapphire Isle Holiday Resort in Tarth. Then there were Jaime and Cersei - Tywin’s twin children - one a professional surfer still at his peak, the other a fading model. While Jaime spent his time catching waves, Cersei spent hers drinking away her ex-husband’s wealth and pampering her former teen-heartthrob pop star son, Joffrey.

Joffrey Baratheon had been a teen singing sensation, and had milked it for all he could. His arrogance had lost him a few fans, but his silky blond hair and full pouting lips ensared an army of simpering girls who would faint at the mere sight of him. With that fame came several autotuned hit singles and several clothing deals, including the irritating trend of 'KING JOFF' snapbacks.

With four such prominent members of the family, it was no wonder that barely any attention was paid to Joffrey’s two younger siblings: Myrcella and Tommen, nor their uncle, Tyrion; a renowned business strategist.

Despite working at the resort, Brienne had little interaction with their wealthier guests. But Brienne had definitely heard of Jaime Lannister, and meeting him was doing nothing to dispel the talk about his self-assurance and charm, much to her dismay.

'You still haven’t answered my question,' Jaime probed.

'Which one?'

'Why would you want to spend your summers working here?'

'Because it pays well.' A lie. One that Brienne told herself repeatedly to push the real reason she spent every summer at the resort out of her mind.

'That can’t be it, surely?' Jaime mused, narrowing his eyes at Brienne. She returned his squint with a blank stare. Jade eyes meeting sapphire.

'Some of us actually need to work for money,' Brienne snapped. Another lie. Her father earned enough money through his jewelry business to support them both.

'Hm, no, that’s still not it.'

'Dr Qyburn, how much longer do you require my assistance for?' Brienne asked, her eyes never leaving Jaime’s. Her hand was still firmly on his (toned and muscular) upper arm.

'Another half an hour, at least, dear,' Qyburn replied with a sly glance at Jaime, whose eyes remained fixed on Brienne. 'You’re doing a wonderful job.'

Brienne groaned.

'Is it a boy?' Jaime blurted. Brienne felt her face flush involuntarily. 'It is!'

A cocky grin spread across his face. Brienne fixed her gaze on the clock above the door, repressing the urge to smack him right in his shiny white teeth. Thirty minutes could not go faster for Brienne.

She idly wondered whether even Renly Baratheon was worth putting up with Jaime Lannister for so long.


	2. The Dragonstove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stannis takes orders, Melisandre delivers food, Davos makes a hell of a lot of onion rings.

'Order up!' Davos dinged the bell on the countertop. Yet another plate of speciality onion rings appeared for Melisandre to whisk away to the couple in the window seats.

He wiped the grease from his hands onto the tea towel tucked into his belt. The knuckle joints on his left hand where his fingers used to be always ached around lunchtime, typically at The Dragonstove’s busiest hours.

'Two hot dogs with sides of onion rings for table fourteen,' Stannis announced, placing a note with the order in his tiny neat handwriting on the countertop.

'Coming right up,' Davos replied quickly, getting back to work.

If Stannis had his way, which he often did, he wouldn’t speak at all unless he had to. But Stannis had come to realise that things sped up considerably if he read the order aloud to Davos instead of waiting for him to read it. It had been a great surprise to the well-educated Stannis that Davos couldn’t read very well when Davos’ son, Matthos, did the cafe’s accounts.

'Order up!' Davos dinged a few moments later, placing the two plates on the countertop.

Melisandre flashed him one of her trademark red-lipsticked smirks as she picked the plates up. That woman looked at everyone as though she knew more than they did. About what? Davos wondered. Certainly not onion rings, that’s for sure. She sashayed away in her little red skirt (that would one day cause Stannis to burst a blood vessel due to such a  blatant disregard of food hygiene rules), and deposited the hot dogs at their allotted table.

The bell above the door jingled as yet more customers entered. Davos cast a look through the kitchen window and recognised the leader of the group immediately. Only one person could get away with wearing that garish a top with salmon pink shorts and yellow flip-flops.

'Stannis, my brother!' cried the tallest of the newcomers. 'How are you?'

'I am well, Renly.' Stannis replied stiffly, as he always did when his youngest brother came bursting in with his posse of friends.

'Customer service on form as ever, I see,' he grinned broadly. 'I’ll have one of your finest ham and pineapple crepes with a cold glass of tropical juice. Loras, what do you want?'

Davos could almost hear Stannis grinding his teeth as he jotted down the order for the rest of the Tyrell group. They rarely frequented the Dragonstove, preferring to sip cocktails by the pools, eat expensive fruit salads in their penthouse suites, and smoking various leaves in the gardens. But when they did descend on Dragonstove with Renly they only ever ordered savoury crepes and fruit juice, with the occasional sorbet to cleanse their palates.

Melisandre leaned against the kitchen counter and shared a look with Davos. 'I still cannot believe that kid is related to Stannis,' her deep accented voice mused.

'He is a lot more like Robert, that’s for sure,' Davos agreed, pouring some batter into a pan.

'Drinking, smoking, and lounging by the pool. Imagine Stannis sunbathing,' Mel chuckled.

'He goes bright red!' a voice at Mel’s hip announced. 'Like a lobster!'

Mel looked down with surprise. 'Shireen, when did you get here, princess?'

Stannis’ young daughter looked up at Mel and Davos with her wide eyes, the scars on her face mostly covered by her long blonde hair.

'Just now. You grown-ups never hear us sneaking around,' Shireen frowned. 'Edric and I are here for lunch. I was going to tell Dad but he’s talking to Uncle Renly so I came over here.'

'I’ll get your usual going then, princess,' Davos smiled. 'You go order with your Dad.'

Shireen skipped over to the counter to order. Her cousin, Edric, was already sat down at a corner table waiting.

'She’s so sweet,' Mel acknowledged.

'Not like Stannis at all,' Davos chuckled, expertly flipping the crepes in the pan with his uninjured hand.

Stannis stormed over, a little red at the neck with irritation, and read out Renly’s orders. Davos quickly set to preparing the fillings for the crepes.

'So that’s one ham and pineapple, a smoked salmon and cheese, a cheese and tomato, and a breakfast crepe.' Davos set each plate down in order, ready for Mel to deliver to Renly and his friends once the crepes were done.

'That boy needs to learn how to handle responsibilities,' Stannis vented. 'It’s no good waiting for Robert to do anything about it; he’s never been responsible. Maybe I’ll get Renly working shifts here.'

'You know he’s no longer your responsibility, Stannis,' Davos reminded his best friend and boss. 'He moved out at eighteen. He’s living his own life now.'

'Yes, living in Highgarden with the Tyrells. Smoking like chimneys, I expect.'

'At least they’re herbal chimneys,' Melisandre chipped in. 'He could have ended up worse, like those Freys up on the river. No manners that lot, or respect for the environment.' She circled around bringing empty, dirty plates back to the kitchen for Gendry to wash up before walking off with filled plates.

'All the same, I won’t have any brother of mine bumming around, taking charity from some glorified florists.'

'Actually, Tyrell Roses is the largest chain of plant distributors in the country,' Davos added. 'Though I understand your point, of course, Stannis.'

With a small grumble, Stannis returned to his post behind the counter to take the latest customers’ orders. Davos served up the Tyrell party’s crepes and tapped the bell to summon Melisandre.


End file.
